The Sword in the City
by IstariWho
Summary: This is the beginning of a Thorongil Fanfic that I haven't figured out how to continue. I hope you enjoy. *The world and most of the characters in it belong to Tolkien and the Tolkien Estate. I merely dabble in that sandbox.*


Thorongil wandered through the White City. He had just that day arrived in Minas Tirith. Having served under King Thengel of Rohan for many years, Thorongil was sent to deliver a message and offer his services to Lord Ecthelion, Steward of Gondor. This was his first visit to the city of the Kings of Gondor, which he could claim, for his true name was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and he was descended father to son from the last king of Gondor. Unknown to the realm of Gondor the line of the kings survived in the Dunadain Rangers of the Northern Kingdom, formerly called Arnor, but now seen only as a barren stretch of woodlands and ruins.

At this point, however, Thorongil was a little lost among the maze of stone buildings. He could find his way in any forest or field, but he had not up until now had much experience with cities. As he turned another confusing corner, Thorongil was not aware that he was being watched.

Taradin watched the messenger from Rohan, wondering where the man could be from. He looks as one of our own, yet apparently he comes from Rohan. The Steward sent message saying that a man from Rohan would join our company as a volunteer, and requires lodgings in the barracks. Why would a Rohirric messenger join the army of Gondor? And where does he come from? Realizing that the enigmatical man he was watching had just turned another corner, Taradin quickly stepped out of the doorway he had been standing in and hurried to catch up, saying swiftly,

"Your pardon, but are you Thorongil, the messenger from Rohan? I was told to watch for a stranger, who would be joining my company."

On being addressed, Thorongil turned. "Yes, I am he. Unfortunately, I am as yet unused to the arrangement of the city, and do not know where the barracks of the Third Company is. Would you be so kind as to show the way?" He smiled somewhat sheepishly.

Taradin smiled in return. "It is just back here. You passed the door twice before I was certain you were the man I was told to watch for. My name is Taradin, Lieutenant of the Third Company of Gondor. Come! I will show you around the barracks. Your horse was brought here as soon as the message came that a soldier from Rohan was joining the company."

"Many thanks, sir." They entered the building together.

Inside the room was dark and enclosed with a warm hearth fire burning to keep out the autumn chills. Thorongil was reminded of the Inn of the Prancing Pony in Bree, This must be some sort of common room, he realized seeing a few men playing a dice game. Taradin introduced the men and showed Thorongil to his bunk in the barracks room.

"As you can tell we work in shifts. At this time of day most of our company is on duty, but we always have some off-duty in case of emergency. Also, there is a courtyard through the door at the back of the common area where some of the men are practicing swordplay and other warrior arts. I suggest that, if you are not overly fatigued from your journey, that you join them and become somewhat more acquainted with our ways and customs. As it has already reached the second hour 'til sundown you will have no duty tonight. Supper is at sundown. Tomorrow you will start your training as a soldier of Gondor. A uniform has been laid out for you in the chest by your bunk. You do not need to wear it while off-duty, but I expect you to be dressed in it and present at roll call at daybreak. I hope you settle in well."

Thorongil took off his worn pack and stained traveling cloak as the lieutenant left him alone in the room. For now, he decided, I will wear my Rohirric traveling clothes so they can tell who I am. Word of the coming of a messenger who is joining the guard is bound to travel fast, and they will likely expect me to be a wild blond Rider of Rohan. With that he finished sorting through his few belongings and storing them in the chest.

In the courtyard, Dúlos and Firaer were dueling with slightly blunted practice swords while a group of other soldiers watched and shouted out pointers. None noticed the messenger from Rohan slip quietly out of the building and lean against the wall watching the duel with interest. Dúlos struck out ferociously, not seeming to care if he gave the other serious injury. No one seemed to take notice his lack of caution for the safety of his opponent, being too caught up in the excitement of the match. As Dúlos swung back in a complex move designed to distract his opponent and leave him open for beheading, Thorongil leaped forward grabbing another practice sword as he jumped. The audience of soldiers gasped.

Thorongil had blocked the blow aimed at Firaer's neck and was parrying stroke after stroke from a very red Dúlos. Firaer was standing aside, eyes wide, realizing that he had just barely escaped serious injury, or more likely, death. Several other soldiers were pulling out practice swords as well and coming to join Thorongil. One of these said, "That was a dastardly move, Dúlos. Eglin has gone to fetch the lieutenant. The entire company should be ashamed of you." Dúlos dropped his sword and stood in frowning silence, realizing that he had no chance of winning against the group arrayed against him. Two of these took him by the arms to prevent further incident. The soldier who had addressed Dúlos turned to Thorongil, "So, I take it that you are our new arrival, going by your garb. I am Baranor son of Barannas. Forgive me, but you do not look Rohirric but rather as one of our kin…?" Thorongil answered the unspoken question, "I am called Thorongil. And though I have lived in Rohan for some years now, I originally come from the North."

They were interrupted as the lieutenant came out into the yard, followed by another man. This man addressed the now restrained miscreant, "Dúlos, in the three years you have been with the company I have heard nothing but complaints about you, but nothing you did was deserving of more than a brief reprimand. You have now over-stepped the boundary and are expelled from this company with dishonor." To the soldiers restraining him the man said, "Throw him in the guardhouse for the night with no food or water and toss him into the street in the morning, with nothing but his street clothes."

As the group left, the man turned to Thorongil, "You are welcome in this company, Thorongil, I am Captain Hambras, and I understand that commendations are in order, otherwise we might have a dead comrade on our hands. You have the thanks of the company." "Thank you, sir. I merely did what I could to resolve a dangerous situation. The others did as much as I." Thorongil said, uncomfortable with the attention he was getting while trying to be under-cover. "Ah…"the captain mused aloud, "Honest humility is not something I see very often, but you, Thorongil, were the first to act and had the presence of mind to step in immediately. What do you think, men…does Thorongil deserve thanks?" This comment was met with rousing cheers, ringing through the courtyard.

During the acclaim, Thorongil realized that they had suddenly all accepted him as one of them, though none knew him, and some had not even caught his assumed name. Will I ever find this welcome in truth? These are my people. Will they welcome me as king? Firaer was suddenly beside him, still slightly shocked, but exceedingly grateful, "Thank you so much, Thorongil. If there is ever anything I can do for you, let me know." Still vaguely embarrassed, Thorongil responded, "I did only what any man would do, given the chance. I was in a slightly better position than most of the others watching, and, as a stranger, could watch critically with no bias or previous opinion. However, I may need your help some day. Thank you."

As they went in to supper, Thorongil wondered where he should sit. Baranor beckoned him over to a seat next to him and Firaer sat down at Thorongil's other side. Everyone was quiet as the captain entered and they all stood and faced west. Thorongil followed smoothly, surprised that the custom of looking towards Numenor still existed. Baranor looked vaguely surprised as they sat back down. "How do you know the custom of the Standing Silence? " "It was a custom in my home also, though many have forgotten why it is done." Baranor looked like he would say more to this mysterious stranger, but he was interrupted by the noise which was erupting all around. Supper was a rowdy affair

The next day began with roll call and then breakfast and drill. Barracks chores were after lunch for those not on duty. The Third Company had duty on the walls or in the fields from dawn to noon, noon to nightfall, or nightfall to dawn, depending on the day. Divided into squads they would sometimes ride out on patrol, or work to repair roads, or guard the outer wall of the Ramas. Life continued like this for many months and Thorongil settled into his role in the company.


End file.
